Sanctum: The Alchemist's Laboratory
by SisterRaven
Summary: A brief  600 word  character study, on how our friends change us without us realizing.


_AN: Just a brief character study on John Watson, based on the idea that living with a man like Sherlock Holmes is __**bound**__ to change a person. The title is the name of one of the rooms in the video game "Vagrant Story." I just liked how it sounded. And if you have a moment after reading, reviews are loved, adored, and pampered._

Sanctum: The Alchemist's Laboratory

John Watson was not what one would call a fanciful man. His speech was straightforward, not given to metaphor or hyperbole. This may have been due to a naturally stolid nature. Certainly, both his medical and military training reinforced this tendency. Both fields necessitated seeing things as they **are**, rather than how they might be, or how they should be. Whatsoever was the cause, by the time he moved into the flat on Baker Street, John was well set in his ways. But it seems that a life with Sherlock Holmes can cause changes in even the steadiest of natures.

It wasn't some huge revelation, nothing blatant; just a subtle shift in thought. Sherlock was so **different** from anyone he'd previously met, that he seemed to be something more than human. The word "alien" would drift across John's mind, but it didn't seem quite right. Despite his unwillingness to interact with most people in any polite fashion, he still seemed to fit within his environment. No, Sherlock wasn't alien; rather, he gave the impression of being one step removed from humanity. He brought to John's mind stories his mother hand told him (when he was still young enough for such things), tales of the Fair Folk, and of changelings left in cribs.

At first John didn't notice these flights of fancy, as they always seemed to center somehow around Sherlock. And Sherlock was far enough from normal that these imaginings seemed natural. But the shift was subtle, gradual, and undeniable. So it wasn't until coming home one day to an elaborate chemistry experiment in progress in the kitchen that John finally acknowledged how much his friend and companion had impacted his life. Looking at the kitchen table and seeing the vast array of bubbling beakers and flasks, and the twisted lengths of distillation tubing, John started imagining alembics and retorts, and wondered if Sherlock actually **was** trying to find the Philosopher's Stone. He let his mind wander that path for a moment. But Sherlock was too uninterested in money; he'd undoubtedly declare the ability to turn lead into gold as "dull." John **could** see Sherlock trying to gain immortality, but only so he could experiment with ever more creative ways to commit suicide. 'Nah,' John thought. Sherlock wasn't that impractical – he'd get far too bored with eternity stretching out before him.

As John was thinking about all of this, Sherlock returned to the kitchen to check on his experiment. Seeing him, John decided to have him on a bit. With a grin he asked, "So, figured out how to turn lead into gold yet?"

"Don't be ridiculous, John. Even I couldn't do that without a particle accelerator."

John was actually a bit surprised that Sherlock had not deleted any information he'd learned about ancient alchemy, and had apparently considered the possibility of using something like the Large Hadron Collider to transmute elements. Thinking about it, Sherlock seemed a little less rigorous in "deleting" extraneous information over the time John had known him. Seeing such a change in Sherlock (even if it was a small one) forced John to admit that he himself had also changed. Working with Sherlock required a bit more imagination than might be expected. Sherlock couldn't afford to focus only on what was in front of him. He also had to anticipate what someone was **going** to do. And this apparently sparked John's own imagination off, albeit in other directions. He shook his head at his own fancies. "Any clean mugs around that you haven't used for poisons or body parts, Sherlock? I'll make us a cuppa."


End file.
